"Mouse, is that you?"

Such a long time. Mouse.

The white mouse, specifically, from the cartoon Tom and Jerry - the explosive one.

This:


Since then, it's always been my bar name. There was Tom the Doormouse (worked the door!), but then there was just me, Mouse. Perhaps I will play Mouse again, somewhere else, a new bar. I mean, it does wear on you, playing someone else, but on the whole it's fun. Life is performance art. Messing with perception is kinda fun. I'm sure enough people thought of me as That Fucking Annoying Bitch Who Is Always In The Bar.

And I am. Annoying that is. Who should I play next? Don't know. I don't want to be creepy, but hell, I really am. I'm really fucking creepy if I think about it. Who the hell plays characters in real life? I do, because I'm fucking bored. Smile, cheat, it's all deceit. I think my next project is to dress fancy (including heels) and go grocery shopping. That would be amusing.

Or actually see if I could get a leather jacket with a picture of a vagina and "The Vagenious" emblazoned on it. Granted, I'll never get laid again, but it might be worth it. Maybe. But I'm thinking that I will never get laid again anyway. I try to be okay with that, but I'm not, not really.

Mouse. The very least I can do is buy the flame boots and the silver boots. It's a start.